A reporter once asked Stewart if he thought racing had gotten too safe. Anyone else would have played along. Ever the authentic, Stewart fired back, "Gee, maybe the media center's too safe because you guys got four legs on your chairs. Maybe we should blow one of them up. What do you think about that?"

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He abhors B.S. So naturally, I wanted to hear his thoughts on the new Corvette.

We've been on a long vigil waiting for this all-new version, only the seventh in the Corvette's 60-year history. Prototypes were running way back in 2006 at GM's Milford proving grounds north of Detroit. Over the ensuing seven years, the next Corvette remained a mystery, like the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa, whose remains were rumored to lie roughly five miles from GM's track. Interesting trivia: Around the same time Corvette prototypes started running, the FBI dug around a Milford farm for two days. They were skunked.

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And so were we when we tried to get solid details about the new car. Frankly, I didn't much care. Only one detail mattered: How does it feel? For that, I'd have to drive it.

Here's my thinking: The Corvette's always had the numbers handled. On any track, the C5 and C6 Corvette could trounce sports cars that were evenly priced and many that were far more costly. What else mattered?

For sure, the car had its faults, but the biggest—beside the lawn-chair seats—was that it lacked connection, that wonderful bond where you feel like you can use everything the car has to offer. My sister rides horses, and she describes the same thing when she gets on an unknown steed. At some point, the horse cedes control. An understanding is reached.

With the luxury of seat time, I got there with the old Corvette. I could make it do what I wanted once I got past that initial apprehension and the sweaty palms. But it took practice and reason, not instinct. I wanted to know why a car that was fundamentally good didn't necessarily feel that way.

That's another reason I asked Tony Stewart to join me and the new Vette at GM's private racecourse. If the new car had that same aloofness, maybe a no-bull guy who sets up race cars for a living—and wins—could tell me why.

The plan, however, proved flawed from the moment Stewart and I peeled out of the pits. When he's behind the wheel, he suffers none of an amateur's self-doubt. He's a master, and it was a joy to watch a person do the thing he was born to do. When he gushed about how he could effortlessly get the Corvette to do whatever he wanted, I assumed that was thanks to the rider, not the horse. I kept asking him if he'd alter the car's setup, figuring that there had to be something to tweak. He just shook his head.

Then my turn came and, true to form, Tony Stewart wasn't whitewashing. I, too, could hammer the Vette like a Miata and never once fretted about the crazy speeds the car so effortlessly attains. While you can read all the details in this issue, keep this in mind: The new Corvette's greatest triumph isn't its stout performance. It's the fact that mortals can now use it.

"They're gonna have to figure out how to bring some lights in, because I'm gonna play for a while."